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"gapped" poems
What is the space between, enclosing us in one united person, yet dividing each alone. Frail bridges cross from eye to eye, from flesh to flesh, from word to word: the net is gapped at every mesh, and this each human knows: however close our touch or intimate our speech, silences, spaces reach most deep, and will not close.
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2.8k
Failure of Communion
**** you. All of your b r o k e n promises, And stupid lies. I sat there many nights, calling And wondering where you were. I hoped that you were with your friends. But, God, I knew you were with her. You smelt like her when you sat by me And the floors creaked Cheater, Cheater I thought that I would get over it, But then I was able to see her. Greasy face, and stringy hair, Oh my, is that the best you could do? But those yellow gapped teeth come back to me, I guess she deserves you. So you left and went to her And I thought it was because of me. Is it wrong that I can't stop laughing? You're betrayal has given me glee. She ****** another in his bed, While you waited around for her. So I guess the sides have been turned. Tell me, Darling, does it hurt? So, Sweetheart, with the fire red hair, Whose name makes my stomach churn, Tell me, did you ever think that A ginger boy could burn?
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Dec 5, 2012
Dec 5, 2012 at 9:43 PM UTC
She Cheated On My Cheater.
Of course when your southern tipped - tongue drips out the words "I want to move up north" everyone whose roots reach deep below the belt of the Mason Dixon will ****** your face in their gaze and warn you bout that Northern Disregard. But don't listen to their tales of discarded homeless people plastered cross pavement. Tell them bout those who find home amongst the clutter of 125th with warm eyes that search the cold looking for laugh lines and loose change. Tell them how they maintain an open hand good for grasping and an open mouth good for un-gourging their gapped - toothed grins of wisdom. You tell them that these people with the wrinkles of a wise man may not have much but they share what they got. You tell them that no matter where we're from we've all got a little Southern Hospitality stained in our smiles. Tell them that you'll be fine and pray you're right.
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Jan 3, 2013
Jan 3, 2013 at 3:04 PM UTC
95 North
a decapitated dog put on too many sticks to reach out and bite a child who only wanted to play with a soft touch and gapped holed grin. the lights go out when you can´t know when,  say yes to hold lights for when ´when´ happens ¨you can trip and fall¨. glasses melted with fire to become bigger for a bigger head are still to dark to wear in shadow. tilted camera you stare with a corked head curious to what goes on behind me, won´t you look my way instead. dragonfly warrior poorly protecting his flourescent queen from the onslaught of molecules in a world filled with air, with air, with air, air, air. the volume of speakers are controlled by tiny gods moving their tiny fingers, just a littly bit louder my dear. can you remember when landline telephones were used, I remember circle dials and zero always took the longest, when did phone get rid of tele? white flowers and white hanging sheets with yellow sun bolts raining on a clear sky shout with thunder from a noisless wind, I wear earphones tonight. trees dance better then me, plants taste better then me, pianos sound better then me, me is better then me, we´re equals. fat cat dreams of being skinny, he wears eye liner on weekdays and thongs on the weekends. sometimes yoga makes me feel like a woman who feels **** then yoga makes me think what that thought means? rocks are hot when heated.
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Jan 31, 2011
Jan 31, 2011 at 6:41 AM UTC
take a look around nancy, tell me what you see
Another drunk poem between headphones, static & blank screens surround me Awoke in the morning with a gamblers smile, like seagulls flocking, resting, gliding Broken, crushed, words like quiet jokes until that last whisper under ***** sheets in a cheap motel Yet we sip our poison and smoke our cancer, brothers and friends crammed into closeness Smiles spent on the eyes of those to lovely to smile back, yet their hearts were warmed By gapped tooth grins and young men with dirt under bitten fingernails Last night the headlights behind me made silver halos in the mist As I walked down gravel roads with mud stuck everywhere, my constant companion Some days I forget I’m human, that I exist, sitting in the passenger seat, watching the world run by Two kids with backpacks and a stray cat, asked them where they were heading, “Hitchhiking to nowhere..” Nowhere sounds about right right now, looking at the state of things A place of fragrant trees and uncut grasses, stones unturned and clear running streams The broken limestone memories of my childhood call to me Not much left of that anymore, just fragments like a smashed tooth Can’t even think some days, easier not to I think, easier to let it all pass by I saw a darkness today, and I closed my eyes to try for light Standing under rusty bridges, flicking dead embers away Between blue lines on the page I spill thoughts like spoilt milk Scribbles and scratches, wasted and unwanted, lost between memories Memories I claim, not sure if they’re even mine anymore Twenty two years old with a death wish by thirty Dots and lines, a splash of smiles and laughter, stains in the carpet And we sit here like corpses, the two of us, cigarette butts between twitching fingers Stilled by the last exhale, the moment between inaction and locomotion Our still waters stirred, clear blue skies filled with rain clouds, still blue above them Your room, surrounded by rooms full of people, washing dishes or watching their dreams die on T.V. screens None of that matters to me, just your breath and hearing your voice for a second before sleep takes over I left a note in that book you told me you’d read, guess you never got around to it
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Dec 16, 2012
Dec 16, 2012 at 12:42 PM UTC
Sleeping In The Rain
Another drunk poem between headphones, static & blank screens surround me Awoke in the morning with a gamblers smile, like seagulls flocking, resting, gliding Broken, crushed, words like quiet jokes until that last whisper under ***** sheets in a cheap motel Yet we sip our poison and smoke our cancer, brothers and friends crammed into closeness Smiles spent on the eyes of those to lovely to smile back, yet their hearts were warmed By gapped tooth grins and young men with dirt under bitten fingernails Last night the headlights behind me made silver halos in the mist As I walked down gravel roads with mud stuck everywhere, my constant companion Some days I forget I’m human, that I exist, sitting in the passenger seat, watching the world run by Two kids with backpacks and a stray cat, asked them where they were heading, “Hitchhiking to nowhere..” Nowhere sounds about right right now, looking at the state of things A place of fragrant trees and uncut grasses, stones unturned and clear running streams The broken limestone memories of my childhood call to me Not much left of that anymore, just fragments like a smashed tooth Can’t even think some days, easier not to I think, easier to let it all pass by I saw a darkness today, and I closed my eyes to try for light Standing under rusty bridges, flicking dead embers away Between blue lines on the page I spill thoughts like spoilt milk Scribbles and scratches, wasted and unwanted, lost between memories Memories I claim, not sure if they’re even mine anymore Twenty two years old with a death wish by thirty Dots and lines, a splash of smiles and laughter, stains in the carpet And we sit here like corpses, the two of us, cigarette butts between twitching fingers Stilled by the last exhale, the moment between inaction and locomotion Our still waters stirred, clear blue skies filled with rain clouds, still blue above them Your room, surrounded by rooms full of people, washing dishes or watching their dreams die on T.V. screens None of that matters to me, just your breath and hearing your voice for a second before sleep takes over I left a note in that book you told me you’d read, guess you never got around to it
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I saw this War Veteran on his porch yelling at this Hipster Kid who was tethered to his fence across the generational gapped front lawn, yelling back at him. And I mean, they got into it. The kid wasn't doing anything really, just taking alternate swigs of foamy PBR and flat Red Bull and chucking the cans into the vet's unkempt garden, retorting Dylan lyrics and sentiments of Kerouac like the post-modern beatnik he was. I couldn't make out what the Old Vet was saying. His voice was missing from probably smoking too many Benson & Hedges Black down in the trenches. I know he must have been saying something uncalled for, though, to get this Kid so riled up like that. I'm not sure what they were arguing about since I awoke right in the middle of this altercation, hanging upside down on a bench in the park across the street. I suppose I'll just wait until the Vet goes back inside so I can go over and release the Kid and ask him what that was all about.
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Mar 8, 2014
Mar 8, 2014 at 9:31 AM UTC
Park Bench Tele-Vision
I was a little girl yesterday morning, With a flash of red hair and a gap-toothed grin Laughing and playing on the swing at my favorite park. I was a confused pre-teen that afternoon, Scraping her knees on jagged insults Holding in tears for secret bathroom visits Where she would push her fingers Into her throat and Pray on her knees that her lunch would Reappear like a magic trick. I was a scared teenager by evening, Kissing girls and running away from The demons in my head with voices That sounded like my mother’s. By midnight I was on the floor shaking, Back to twenty, back to who I am now Wishing those past me’s would understand that I needed Something more. Yet this morning I sat up in my bed and greeted the sun with a Flash of red hair and a close-gapped grin And I am here now, Here remembering, being present and Knowing who I was Ten years ago twelve years ago fifteen years ago five minutes ago Is exactly who I needed to be, Doing exactly what I needed to do. Scraping my knees and elbows And pushing my finger down my throat And feeling ugly all the time, That’s not what I needed but it’s Who I was Who I couldn’t stop being because I Didn’t know how. In my mind, I am not That little girl, that preteen, that teenager I am me. I am Bumping and bruising and Breaking, sometimes, along the way but this Is where I stand. And those past selves stand Hand-in-hand somewhere along The equator of my brain Like paper dolls unfolded Through my history.
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Dec 8, 2014
Dec 8, 2014 at 6:10 PM UTC
Paper Past Selves
I was a little girl yesterday morning, With a flash of red hair and a gap-toothed grin Laughing and playing on the swing at my favorite park. I was a confused pre-teen that afternoon, Scraping her knees on jagged insults Holding in tears for secret bathroom visits Where she would push her fingers Into her throat and Pray on her knees that her lunch would Reappear like a magic trick. I was a scared teenager by evening, Kissing girls and running away from The demons in my head with voices That sounded like my mother’s. By midnight I was on the floor shaking, Back to twenty, back to who I am now Wishing those past me’s would understand that I needed Something more. Yet this morning I sat up in my bed and greeted the sun with a Flash of red hair and a close-gapped grin And I am here now, Here remembering, being present and Knowing who I was Ten years ago twelve years ago fifteen years ago five minutes ago Is exactly who I needed to be, Doing exactly what I needed to do. Scraping my knees and elbows And pushing my finger down my throat And feeling ugly all the time, That’s not what I needed but it’s Who I was Who I couldn’t stop being because I Didn’t know how. In my mind, I am not That little girl, that preteen, that teenager I am me. I am Bumping and bruising and Breaking, sometimes, along the way but this Is where I stand. And those past selves stand Hand-in-hand somewhere along The equator of my brain Like paper dolls unfolded Through my history.
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1. in the grand scheme of things, he’s the trees and I’m the river and the stones are always, always covered in blood 2. he keeps looking at me over his shoulder and I don’t know if it’s because he knows I’m lying or if he’s checking to see that I’m still alive 3. he told me I was a god, some free and ruthless and holy thing and I told him he was the sun and we’re both waiting on the test results to see who won 4. he smiles like an animal, too much teeth, gapped and bleeding, too much dirt stuck to his gums, lips sticky and eyes burning holes into me 5. I never thought I’d be afraid of the way the light hits the earth, quietly and all at once, but I am and it feels like I should be on my knees and praying to something I know doesn’t exist for me 6. in the grand scheme of things, neither of us is a bird or fragile or something precious to hold onto, and both of us know this, which makes it worse 7. he isn’t some winged holy thing 8. he hung the stars and told me how lovely I was in the lighting 9. he put a gun in his mouth until I could taste the sting of it, metal coating my insides, until I was the one bleeding iron bullets 10. he handed me his plastinated heart and told me to swallow it whole so I did 11. he said a lot of things and I mostly don’t remember them because I was too busy knitting us together at the seams of our broken bones, two skeletons in the same grave, some kind of poetic fate 12. or, that’s how I’ll say it happened
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Dec 27, 2015
Dec 27, 2015 at 11:43 PM UTC
a calculation, a sell-by date
1. in the grand scheme of things, he’s the trees and I’m the river and the stones are always, always covered in blood 2. he keeps looking at me over his shoulder and I don’t know if it’s because he knows I’m lying or if he’s checking to see that I’m still alive 3. he told me I was a god, some free and ruthless and holy thing and I told him he was the sun and we’re both waiting on the test results to see who won 4. he smiles like an animal, too much teeth, gapped and bleeding, too much dirt stuck to his gums, lips sticky and eyes burning holes into me 5. I never thought I’d be afraid of the way the light hits the earth, quietly and all at once, but I am and it feels like I should be on my knees and praying to something I know doesn’t exist for me 6. in the grand scheme of things, neither of us is a bird or fragile or something precious to hold onto, and both of us know this, which makes it worse 7. he isn’t some winged holy thing 8. he hung the stars and told me how lovely I was in the lighting 9. he put a gun in his mouth until I could taste the sting of it, metal coating my insides, until I was the one bleeding iron bullets 10. he handed me his plastinated heart and told me to swallow it whole so I did 11. he said a lot of things and I mostly don’t remember them because I was too busy knitting us together at the seams of our broken bones, two skeletons in the same grave, some kind of poetic fate 12. or, that’s how I’ll say it happened
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Walking in. In hand, a pink/brown suitcase. Wearing an orca suit. Doesn't matter why. Dark auditorium. Millions of thumb faces. Smudged away by the painter. Stumbling up and down the seats. Sitting in one. Getting Up Moving to another. All of the sudden in the front row. Watching the spectacle. At hand & on stage. Too bright to actually see. Just a white sun spot. Then everyone is waiting. Women are called on stage. They are beautiful. One by one they step up. The wood floor is worn & polished. And then they say my name. And I stand up. I'm in a tight red dress. I tip toe to the stage. All the thumb faces are silent. Relaxed & unfocused. I stand there, feeling the end of a joke. And they clap and we smile. I'm in between Ellen and Madonna. Suddenly, every one is gone. And we leave the stage. Behind the scene. Everything is concrete. Obsolete. Madonna looks at me. And I feel myself swallow any hope, Of an ego. Eradicated, I know she thinks I'm nothing. I run to the small bathroom mirror. My two front teeth are gapped. Bent inward. Tears spills out from my eyes and down my face. I run into the alley and look around. I remember I left my suitcase where I was sitting. Back at my seat, everyone is gone. My suitcase is open and empty. All my clothes are mixed up with things on the floor. I slowly gather them. As the the janitor man applies lipstick, The movie star mirror looking back. I walk to the front. Heels clicking. A man with long black hair is waiting. 'Why didn't you get my suitcase?' 'I don't know.'
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Nov 27, 2012
Nov 27, 2012 at 12:18 PM UTC
Dream #1
Walking in. In hand, a pink/brown suitcase. Wearing an orca suit. Doesn't matter why. Dark auditorium. Millions of thumb faces. Smudged away by the painter. Stumbling up and down the seats. Sitting in one. Getting Up Moving to another. All of the sudden in the front row. Watching the spectacle. At hand & on stage. Too bright to actually see. Just a white sun spot. Then everyone is waiting. Women are called on stage. They are beautiful. One by one they step up. The wood floor is worn & polished. And then they say my name. And I stand up. I'm in a tight red dress. I tip toe to the stage. All the thumb faces are silent. Relaxed & unfocused. I stand there, feeling the end of a joke. And they clap and we smile. I'm in between Ellen and Madonna. Suddenly, every one is gone. And we leave the stage. Behind the scene. Everything is concrete. Obsolete. Madonna looks at me. And I feel myself swallow any hope, Of an ego. Eradicated, I know she thinks I'm nothing. I run to the small bathroom mirror. My two front teeth are gapped. Bent inward. Tears spills out from my eyes and down my face. I run into the alley and look around. I remember I left my suitcase where I was sitting. Back at my seat, everyone is gone. My suitcase is open and empty. All my clothes are mixed up with things on the floor. I slowly gather them. As the the janitor man applies lipstick, The movie star mirror looking back. I walk to the front. Heels clicking. A man with long black hair is waiting. 'Why didn't you get my suitcase?' 'I don't know.'
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56
Life has the tendency to feel like a prozac commercial, the reality that everything either pops or goes up in the air. I see my little sister's gapped smile, in the soapy reflection- her joy should be infectious, but it spreads guilt like a plague to my already tortured mind. I feel so guilty, for wanting to take my life.
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Jul 23, 2019
Jul 23, 2019 at 10:15 PM UTC
Bubbles
I wouldn't mind kissing your chapped lips or touching elbows late at night. We could spin the world away and sing about the lipless. I'd vaccum my room to get rid of the smell and then we could lay there until our thoughts settle, or I could make you tea, promising not to spit in the cup. I don't know if you like sugar or not, but I do, so I'll put it in anyway. I know you don't like apples, oranges, babies, hairy legs, stair cases, dark tunnels, neon colors, highlighted hair, leftovers, or gapped teeth. I know you like milk, dark hair, movies (almost any), games, poetry, dancing, singing, my hands (touching yours), and eye contact. I only have 6 dollars, 3 pills,  4 cigarettes, 5 fingers (on each hand), 2 eyes, and 1 interest.
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Sep 5, 2010
Sep 5, 2010 at 12:00 PM UTC
Television Can't Contain This Kind of Emotion
The night came into me, In its entirety and immorality. Like death, Like rain, Greeted me as an old friend, Wearing stars that couldn't shine bright enough, And clouds that couldn't cry loud enough. The happening of its sky— gapped glowing lilac, It's vibrations rip through the meadow of my happening. Breathes were still — mine and hers Between heaves of storm And a moment of silence, Then wind began to blow.
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Nov 23, 2015
Nov 23, 2015 at 4:29 PM UTC
Then Wind Began To Blow
i’ll be your girl for the night. i like throwing myself into the careless, wandering hands of degenerates every once in a while. you’re throwing up in your hat in the back of a gypsy cab. the driver keeps stopping every 30 feet. he’s sweet about it, passing you napkins. i’m trying hard not to laugh but it’s sneaking out through the gapped fingers over my mouth. it’s 4:30 and we’ve been both been drinking so much and know nothing of each other but we’re having fun and i can’t feel my feet or my brain or really anything. 30 something year old men leaning towards me behind pool tables while you’re in the bathroom. “can i kiss you?” i don’t really know how to respond so i laugh out of nervousness and shrug and kinda pace around the table. “is that your man?” he says. the pool stick is so sticky, covered in beer and weird hand oils and god knows whatever else. i lean over the green felt, pretend to comprehend angles and geometry and try to elongate my body as best i can. girls and pool tables are all very ****** and what not. i can’t stop laughing in the back of that cab and you can’t stop saying sorry
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Apr 13, 2013
Apr 13, 2013 at 4:41 PM UTC
sure,
inspired by Gertrude Stein Wood turns hard and shows its spaces. This is less convincing. If it spoke more no one would listen. It is solid and we don’t fall through. It reminds there is no remembering. The pieces don’t touch, just spaces and they are put together. This is what is done without thinking and we still remember. If something is seen and nothing more than that, it should seem normal and grey. A flag is innocent and spreads. Its colors don’t move and are divided and smoke pulls off more. If it is done where the whole is partial, leave the tab.   The grey, the color grey, needs nothing more and never asks of anything. Overalls can be hard, where wool socks are underrated and tired. It stays this way. How can something so gapped hold calmly? Not because there was a touching, but because of something less. The blanket is blue and grey and holds if nothing more than that. If hands are obvious, if hands are obvious and touching and hard, still no one listens. If hands are obvious and so is wood, there is nothing more. Blue is guaranteed. Blue is guaranteed and so static, but ready.
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Nov 25, 2013
Nov 25, 2013 at 7:51 PM UTC
And Other Stuff, Things (Spokane, WA)
I miss myself. Not me now, but before. Before I grew older, and learned awful things. Before I stopped wearing sundresses, and pigtails in my hair. I miss the me that didn't fall apart like glass. I miss the me that didn't have false hope that everything would get better. I miss the me that didn't run from her problems. I want the me who wanted to stand on the sun, and reach for the clouds. I want the me who only cried over a dropped ice cream cone, or a broken toy. I want the me who always smiled wide enough, that you could see her tongue through her gapped teeth. I want to be what I was. I want to be happy. I want to not care what others think. I want to not be rocks at the bottom of the lake. I long not to be myself. I long to be the version that people liked, and wanted.
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May 13, 2025
May 13, 2025 at 12:14 PM UTC
Missing...me?
I've been thirsting to burst your bubble since I heard the low-down we may be over- supplied with a green-backed bird called Money, that trollop spread-wide by aliases *A mark, a yen, a buck or a pound A buck or a pound, a buck or a pound* To a layman's ears unlearned in the fine- tuned registers of glib-tongued financiers, it may ring up as reason to cheer with no tinkling of trouble, but if Money *Is all that makes the world go around that clinking, clanking sound* (they do say) She sings, clangs a bit hollow when she clings too heavy in alms of poorly wrung hands, it's then well-heeled sit'n spins'll turn us about to the golden-gapped beams of bankers mouths *For Money makes the world go around The world go around, the world go around* And will till johns who hold little put less stock in the **** pitches of slick-macking daddy Street with his tricky fat pay backs for the ounce of love he's flouncing to sell.
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May 12, 2010
May 12, 2010 at 11:06 PM UTC
Jonesing for Alternative Currencies
unpleasant gestures fill the room with tense passion why do you do it and how does it work my sorrow is great undetermined to whom answers untold will linger and lurk accused of the truth stops me in my tracks questions firing but the answer still lacks should i come clean or should I stay on my track my mind kept locked by the way shell react stuttering for time stuttering for you i enter my mind searching for a clue my awaiting epiphany hides in discretion until the bridge is gapped for the end of suppression but the overpass gives out from the absence of speech and my conscience will slowly be unwound and breached truth, like water flows over my bridge carrying the broken pieces over my figurative ridge as the truth rushes through it brings with it remains of the untold lie that will soon be named or perhaps renamed as my self proclaimed title is that how you see me thats not who i am youre blinded by hate my lie started little but ended too great so dont drowned in my river charge at it with force swim through it with trust and open the doors ............
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Mar 11, 2012
Mar 11, 2012 at 1:26 AM UTC
Lies
whispered from a far fairwell, gentle knight quedar en silencio que le traera si a ella no desea pianga, pianga le fleuve ne s'arrête pas the willow set fire on itself three feathers blown via via va via shattered mirror eres ella the spell of the tower trois plumes il suo cuore a willow drowning dans le tourbillon whispered from a far fairwell, gentle knight it was but the waves haleter de papillons delusion whispered from a far fairwell, gentle knight she is nowhere erronée ma credente endless road to a dock in a bay
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Jun 14, 2014
Jun 14, 2014 at 1:44 PM UTC
Gapped rondeau*
I am the cascade rain of chivalrous knights and bubbling veins. The gap you mind and overstep, The mind that’s gapped without repent. Yet the lake reflects a smile and bellows out broadly in the broken streams of Nile in the thoughts of this, a while.
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Feb 17, 2021
Feb 17, 2021 at 6:14 AM UTC
To Reflect
kiss me like the plague hands of the sea fingers an armada kiss me with your barb wire lips your lipstick's like a curse crooked teeth and gapped your smile like a hearse kiss me with pink scars on your drop dead skin (lead me to your slaughter) thighs spun into spider silk (I’ll be your sacrificial lamb) 1 pint water 3 drops mother’s milk
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Jul 17, 2013
Jul 17, 2013 at 10:45 PM UTC
zoo music girl (prayers on fire 1981)
Miriam and I were sitting next to each other on the coach through Paris she laid her head on my shoulder it was night lit up by the City's lights have you heard of Kant's moral argument? I asked her who the **** is Kant? she said looking up at me through half-open eyes German philosopher I said he said that that if moral behaviour is rational then moral behaviour can only be rational if justice will be done and justice can only be done if Gods exists therefore God exists she sighed so if God doesn't exist then moral behaviour is not rational? she said is that what he means? I guess so I said she closed her eyes and I looked at her red hair curly and wavy and planted a kiss on her head a Beethoven piano concerto was playing over the coach radio speakers soft slow movement the keyboard being tinkled by some one's fingers I looked down at her lying there her tee-shirt gapped and I saw the crevice between her small ******* her small hands in her lap I lay my head on her head gently and closed my eyes too what else could a sleepy guy do?
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Apr 17, 2016
Apr 17, 2016 at 9:33 AM UTC
THROUGH PARIS AT NIGHT 1970.
We thread the wide gapped steel With chemically dipped points The fluoro carbons the distance With near zero stretch We braid our thoughts to tungsten Then peg our weight immobile Flip Flip Flip all day Between the weeds and pads Ever present presence fine tuned To any tick upon the line Snap ! Big one
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Jan 19, 2016
Jan 19, 2016 at 9:25 PM UTC
Tungsten Hearts